


When Love is Done

by FarFlungDreamer



Series: Man Hands on Misery to Man [2]
Category: A Series of Unfortunate Events (TV), A Series of Unfortunate Events - Lemony Snicket, All the Wrong Questions - Lemony Snicket, Lemony Snicket: The Unauthorized Biography
Genre: KitXCountOlaf, Kitlaf, KitxOlaf, kit/olaf
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-07
Updated: 2020-06-07
Packaged: 2021-03-04 01:33:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 16,453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24585379
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FarFlungDreamer/pseuds/FarFlungDreamer
Summary: "When you’re on top of something like a moral threshold or a mountain there's nowhere to go but down." Kit had said it many times in her life. Living it was much harder. Choosing between everything you love and everything you are is no choice at all; and no matter how in love, it's impossible for two people stuck in their own ways to do it. Part II of IV.A link to a music video I created for this ship, it goes along with the events part of the series. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UfYpS1orf-g
Relationships: Count Olaf/Kit Snicket, Jacques Snicket & Kit Snicket & Lemony Snicket
Series: Man Hands on Misery to Man [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1776865
Comments: 2
Kudos: 7





	1. “Forever can die in a moment."

* * *

**THE SCHISM**

* * *

Kit watched her baby brother slip away, torn, because she should go make sure he got away safely. But, she couldn’t leave Olaf here alone as he stumbled down the steps to where his father had fallen jaggedly. Olaf knelt on the stairs at his father’s side, hands hovering without knowing what to do. 

Kit followed her fiance instead of her brother and sank shakily next to him, ignoring the tearing in her dress. His breaths were nearly wheezing and Kit could only set her hand on Olaf’s shoulder. He actually cried, and yet he couldn’t touch his father. Kit’s chest twisted madly as she watched his grief. It was one of those rare, hated moments that there was no action she could take to change the course. Some things just happened, but how could this? Olaf’s hands just hovered over his arm. Kit just clenched her nails into his shoulder, her head spinning.

“Dammit,” Esme’s sudden entrance and loud snarl turned both their heads. She was at the bottom of the stairs, her hands clenched around her waist. “L must have gone this way!”

Lemony.

Esme moved towards the emergency exit towards the left of the doors, and Kit felt Olaf move up away from her hand. Kit could see the look in his eye and she held her breath for just a moment as he looked over his father. His grief was dwindling away, and in place there was a sudden anger replacing it that scared her. Because it was meant towards her brother and her fears were realized as Olaf started down the stairs.

“Olaf, wait…” Kit called, and he did pause for just a moment to look over his shoulder at her. “Don’t,” She pleaded, staring up with a mixture of horror and pleading. She shouldn’t ask it of him but how could she not? It was her baby brother…

“He just _killed_ my father,” Olaf snarled, then he took off after Esme. 

Kit glanced after him for a moment before hanging her head, clenching her eyes shut. She should follow him, make sure Lemony got away. 

Kit didn’t… she just couldn’t will herself into action for the first time. She didn’t want to act on either side. They were both her side. How did this happen? All four of them had sat mere moments ago amongst friends, enjoying an evening out. Kit should have known. After all, when you’re on top of something like a moral threshold or a mountain, there's nowhere to go but down.


	2. "When lost in darkness, those who put the light away mark themselves easy prey.”

* * *

He’d come down here to finally find Kit. He hated himself for it, but as soon as his hangovers wore off he just felt the need to run to her. Maybe journaling _was_ stupid. Olaf had ignored all of her phone calls, numerous as they were and avoided her. He was so confused, how could he be open with her about all this pain when he wanted to take it out on her younger brother? It was all so complex, so impossible. Despite it, though, sober him made himself drop down the ladder to go to her. What else could he do?

Until he passed the Opera House’s sign and then he suddenly had no idea why he was doing this. He stormed right back to his house, but then stood around the ladder before turning back towards her again. 

Olaf stopped at the Opera House and he set his hands over his head as if that would help think. He was so confused he was actually turned around and he couldn’t find where he was going or where he wasn’t going under here! He dropped his arms, deciding the only thing he really knew was that he needed a stiff drink. 

He’d been doing this night after night and it had all blended into exhaustion and desperation.

“You look lost.”

He didn’t bother to even look at which goody goody Volunteer it was approaching him. What did he care!? Olaf let out a breath to gather himself before turning, face twitching at the two strange people he didn't recognize.  
  
“How can I be lost?” He snarked, eyes roaming around the tunnels. He’d seen the things a thousand times and yet never realized how _stupid_ it was to have them. The last few days, Olaf was starting to realize a lot of things were like that. “There’s signs everywhere. Which seems kind of dumb for a secret organization.”

“We mean figuratively.”

“Who are you?” He asked, taking their… well, strangeness in. Actually, focusing on them both... Olaf took a step back. “Wait. You’re the man with the hair and the woman with the beard. Or vice versa I’ve heard of you.”

He gestured to them before crossing his arms self consciously. It wasn’t good things, either.

“And vice versa. We know what happened to you that night at the opera.”

The Opera… his face fell. He… he didn’t want to talk about that. He didn’t want to _think_ about it, and he didn’t want to think about everyone talking about it for others to know. Or to think about his organization, that he’d dedicated so much to, stood in the way of justice instead of listening to him. That it was by his own friends, nearly family’s, hands.

“And we know how you've spent your nights ever since.” 

“..wandering these tunnels.”

“Directionless.”  
  
“Alone.”

“Have you been following me?” He asked nervously.

“With great interest for some time.”

“Your friends in V.F.D. betrayed you but a young man with your talents doesn't need friends.”

“He needs guidance.”

Guidance, bah!

“I’ll pass,” He scoffed, crossing his arms. He’d heard of them and it wasn’t pleasant things. Of course, that was through the people he now couldn’t trust in any way. Again, everything was confusing! Suddenly nothing seemed the same, how could he make decisions when everything was upside down?! Oh it didn’t matter. He was done following other people. Actually, he was done with _all_ people. “I’m a tortured, brooding loner now. I’ve even taken up journaling,” He glanced at them, and then away. “I'd rather be alone.”

Alone and no one could hurt him again. It was genius, he couldn’t be betrayed if he simply was near no one! He didn’t have to face it all or decide on an action, betray anyone himself, if he was alone.

“Why what a pity.”

“There's so much we could teach you.”

His eyes flickered up at the inflection in their voice, eyes squinting at them. What did they mean by that? Teach him what?

“Wouldn’t you be interested in learning what really happened that night at the opera?”

“And why?”

“What do you mean _really_ happened?” He asked loftily, but his voice was unsure. “I was there. I saw it all.”

“The V.F.D. is always so fragmentized.”

“So many turning dials.”

“All combining for one complete plot.”

Plot? Like… like it was _planned_? No… no that just couldn’t be. It was just Lemony, thinking he knew better than everyone! He went after the sugar bowl on his own. Still, Olaf couldn’t really believe it. They had just said it. What was in it for them to lie to him? Nothing. His heart beat faster and a sneer pulled on Olaf’s face.

“Tell me _**now**_ , they’ll all pay!” He said heatedly, even if his voice barely raised. If it wasn’t just Lemony, how far did it go? Who else couldn’t he trust?

“That’s more like it,” The woman with no beard said, pleased. 

So Olaf followed them through the tunnels, driven to know the whole truth of his pain. Maybe if it made sense he could handle it. Maybe he’d be able to make Lemony and anyone else involved hurt like they had hurt him. Show them what it felt like to have people so close to you tear your life to pieces. 

The lost and vulnerable man followed the two villains, never to know they knew so much from spinning those dials themselves from deep within their combined organization. 

He never would come to suspect them, as they offered him truths and perspectives, coached him in their schemes or plots, complimented and praised him. Offered that perhaps this was where he had always belonged. Why he never fully fit in. Olaf didn’t suspect a thing. Not even when they helped his shaking, hesitant hands, light the first fire that would rage onward in him and start a series of fires wild enough to burn down everything he’d ever known.


	3. “The end justifies the means. But what if there never is an end?”

It was downpouring and she wasn’t interested in getting wet or wasting time looking for an actual taxi on the way to Jacques’ place. She knew she shouldn’t take the tunnels for personal passage, but she felt so scattered the last month, battered from shock to rumor to greater shock. She just didn’t think she’d be able to keep her eyes open safely enough up there in a downpour. 

Not that… no, Kit _didn’t_ think he was going to come after her. Did she? No. Of course not, but she feared for her brothers, she feared for Beatrice, and she feared for anyone in the organization now… after… after the fire. She just didn’t want to believe it, but Kit was a reasonable and intelligent woman and she _knew_ it was true.

As if cued to her thoughts, Kit heard soft footsteps trying to be quiet. She hid herself in a deeper tunnel entrance, holding herself upside down on the ladder to see who passed the opening underneath her. She felt silly, but reminded herself of all the attacks instead. 

It was to her utter shock that she saw who she saw pass underneath. The who wasn’t hard to make out, even from the top of his head alone.

Kit practically threw herself off the ladder, her shoulder hit lightly and she rolled for a moment before springing up to her feet. One of her hair sticks clattered to the ground, making her bun start to fall apart. Kit had no mind for it, instead she stared, for the first time in so many weeks, eye to eye with her fiancé.

“K-Kit?” He stumbled over his words, just as shocked as she was. 

He looked up incredulously at the ladder and then back at her, eyes widening. She could almost hear him, what he would normally say, ‘Talk about falling from the sky, love’, but strangely Olaf said nothing. 

She silently stared, too, realizing that despite trying to find Olaf all this time… all the words she’d thought of… were fleeing from her now. Only the recent news filled her mind, only the way _he_ looked unsettled to see _her_ , hit home. There was none of the relief she felt, written on his face. So Kit set her lips into a thin line. 

He awkwardly bent down to pick up her hairpiece and she felt her breath catch before she simply decided to ignore most of the facts. In this scenario that was the appropriate response. Kit wasn’t naïve, she knew it was complex, painfully so, but she decided to boil it down to just her and him, like they both _should_. Kit and Olaf. Not Lemony or Beatrice, the late Count or Esme, or… or the Denouements. Just them.

“Where the hell have you been?” She snapped, a false sense of anger seemed appropriate. It was just so... _inadequate_. They weren’t some couple that he’d been away too long. He’d disappeared from his home! Ignored her every attempt to get a hold of him and she hadn’t seen him since he left to chase after Lemony. All he was going through was only an excuse for disappearing from your fiancé's life for _so long_.

Much to Kit’s surprise, Olaf, for the first time in their relationship, didn’t answer her. Instead, he just looked away and she could see the guilt there. Her brave resolve was crumbling and dread was replacing it bit by bit. She knew him so well, she could read the way he crossed his arms, the lines around his mouth like ink on a page or a review in the news. 

So it _was_ all true? Olaf didn’t speak because he had plenty he couldn’t say to her, did he? Plenty to suddenly hide? To be ashamed of in front of her?

Kit took him in for the first time, with a frown. He was a _damn_ mess and it loosened her anger and the disgust she was desperate to ignore. Olaf was wearing clothes that looked like they’d been slept in too many times, his jacket barely hid a wine stain on an undershirt he usually wore to bed. His hair was a strange mess, puffing to the sides of his head. He was thin, thinner than she’d ever seen him. It didn’t compliment his tall build. The deep discolored circles under his eyes spoke for themselves. 

He looked sick and Kit’s face shaped with worry.

Suddenly, as if to break the way they were both staring at each other Olaf unfurled his arms and stuck a hand out with her hair piece. Kit reached and took it. Their fingers brushed, and Kit smiled down at the jolt of energy still there. She _missed_ him but before she was able to travel down that path, it quickly vanished out from under her. Kit noticed the edges of his jacket sleeves had been burned. 

Kit’s face twitched angrily and she snatched her hand away to glare at Olaf.

“You _did_ burn the Denouement home down, didn’t you?” She asked, hand wrapping around her hair piece. Despite knowing so much better she still phrased it with a question, a last bit of hope.

“Hello to you too,” Olaf deadpanned instead of answering.

“Didn’t you?” She shouted.

“You’re all filled of accusations today.” He ground out.

“Did you?!” Her eyes lit up angrier and Olaf reacted.

“Fine,” He snarled. “Yes.”

“The Denouement’s died in that fire!” She rarely lost her calm, but the way he said it did it. As if they were discussing nothing! Kit shouted and her hands flew out to slap his chest in frustration. His familiar fingers wrapped around her wrists to stop her before she got there, but he didn’t hold her any tighter and when she yanked them away he let go. 

“How are you supposed to come back from that!?” She shouted wildly. She never knew when to hold her tongue. She also hadn’t fully put together that the man in front of her, who she loved with everything she had, was capable of hurting her. It wouldn’t fit in her mind no matter all the logic that he hurt people she cared about. It should. He’d just admitted to _murdering_ two people, with the audacity to be casual about it!

“I don’t _want_ to go back to anything!” He said coolly. “Certainly not V.F.D.”

“Nothing left for you?” She barbed.

“No,” He said immaturely, but even without his full heart in it, his words lashed out and left a mark.

“Leave, _**fine**_ , but murder?” She looked at him, looking _for_ **him** , but this man just stared back with a cold shrug. Kit suddenly saw him so transformed, so differently. His indifference wasn’t a confident arrogance anymore, it was cold and dark. His snarky retorts hid things now, instead of being refreshingly honest. “You... F and E’s parents _died_ in that fire!”

“I wonder how _that_ feels.” His voice was dripping with sarcasm and she held her tongue just barely. A moment was all she could manage.

“It was an accident!” She shouted, watching him for some sign of her fiance. She just didn’t see it. “Besides, the Denouement’s family had nothing to do with this!”

“Oh no?!” He finally shouted and this time it was her Olaf who grabbed her wrists. He yanked her close and leaned down in her face, angry but calm. “You’re saying Denouement _didn’t_ give _**you** _those darts?”

Her chest started sinking as Kit stared up at his gaze.

“Didn’t… ah… whichever one of them!” He snapped, correcting himself. “Go ahead Kit. Tell me _you_ didn’t get darts from one of them? Tell me you _didn’t_ take them to the opera, that Beatrice didn’t take them to Lemony? _We_ took different cars, you drove Beatrice, Bertrand and the other performers, remember? ” Olaf shouted, heaved for breath, and then burst out at her silence. “Tell me **_right now_** Kit!”

She stared, just as horrified for a moment before she clenched her eyes and looked away. There was a beat and then Olaf’s gasp, as if he had never believed it, cut her worse than the truth even did.

“I… I didn’t know,” She finally answered weakly, he had to know that. He **had** to. “I wouldn’t have…”

She could almost feel the pain vibrating through his hands as he tightened his grip on her. Kit stared up at him frightened, because he knew now. Olaf **_knew_ **she was involved. He knew and he blamed her as much as he did Lemony. Didn’t he? That was why he wouldn’t respond to her all this time? That was why, wasn’t it? She’d known it, but wouldn't let herself even begin to imagine it. 

Kit was frozen in fear, a state the brave women knew very little about. She felt its strange embrace, staring up at his bright eyes, afraid to see hate there for her. That didn’t come to his face, but something else did. Kit wasn’t sure what it was, because she hadn’t yanked her wrists away this time, instead Olaf quickly let go. As if touching her had burned him. Kit’s chest felt like it was being squeezed between two elevator doors again.

He took three steps from her, reaching up to run his hands over his head. “ _Fuck_ Kit!” Olaf practically screamed, shocking her ears. He visibly squeezed his head before he threw his arms down at his sides and paced around the echoing tunnel. She just watched as he unwound like a spool of thread.

She couldn’t look away, fear pooling in her stomach, that he couldn’t even _touch_ her. What would he have to say next to her? Kit was terrified of what he thought of her, as much as she was terrified of what she thought of him now. Neither of them had asked for this to happen, but now he knew Kit had taken part in some unintentional way. It must be very easy for him to blame her.

“Don’t you look at me like that,” Olaf spoke weakly, turning to finally look at her. What? What did she look like? Kit stared back with her usual, thoughtful frown. What was he talking about? Like what? All she knew was that whatever strange expression on his face, it wasn’t hatred.

It gave her a rush of relief, a glimmer of hope, for better or worse. Familiar worry filled Olaf’s gaze as he continued to look at her. She wished she knew why he clutched his hands away from her, because she saw the first flicker of emotion since that night at the Opera and her heart sped faster at the idea. _Olaf_ looked at her, looking so terribly in pain and so confused, but it was her lover for the first time in the conversation.

“Olaf-” She started, before being interrupted.

“You don’t get to accuse _me_ , when you all did this, _you all_ did!” He yelled, in a deep booming voice. One thing had nothing to do with the other! Denouement didn’t know any more than she did, and now their parents were dead. Olaf knew that’s how things worked! He had to. He set that fire _knowing_ that.

“No,” She cried stubbornly. “ _You_ chose to do this. No one else did!”

“What else can I do?” He growled, balling his fists as he stared at her. “All of you knew, and you all just _sat_ there. Left me out of the joke, huh?”

“No!” Kit insisted, before her voice lowered with one glance at his face. “I didn’t know,” She whispered dejected, finally looking fully up at Olaf.

She wanted to be too scared to look, but she had to be brave. She’d be afraid later. Now she had to face it, face him. He looked so weak, suddenly, and she took a mistaken foot forward. Kit summoned up all her iron wits to confront him but not grab him to comfort him. “I had no idea what would happen,” Kit insisted. She loved him. “I was _just_ enjoying the Opera, too.”

They stared at each other with the admission for a long time. Both afraid as they searched someone growing more and more unreadable to the other. How did this all happen so quickly? Kit couldn’t speak, waiting for his verdict. Until Olaf finally dropped his head and muttered, “I know that.”

Kit let out a breath of relief. He did? Olaf believed her? He had to, because that she couldn’t live with. Him thinking some lie. Him thinking she would try to hurt him, or anyone they loved. She’d never go along with something like that. 

Yet, she knew she had been one cog in the machine that led to his father’s death. She wasn’t even sure how he could know. Olaf was resourceful, though, and what mattered was that he did. Now it made perfect sense why he didn’t come to her before. He must be confused by it all, imagining she was involved. He had to have known she would never but Kit couldn’t hold against him any doubt.

“I loved your parents.” She couldn’t add on that it was nearly as much as she loved him, but never more. Nobody more. She just… couldn’t right now. Not after all this. Ragged grief tugged at his face again and Olaf ran his hands over his head. He was overwhelmed. It couldn't be helped. Kit was never going to be anything less than honest with him. She’d grieved just as hard over his mother’s death as she had her own parents and his father’s wasn’t different. They were all supposed to be family, why wasn’t he remembering that? Why did he shove her out so completely only to go down this dark, wrong path?

“Why didn’t you answer?” She asked, tugging her chin up pridefully. She had to ask from a firm stance because it hurt still. It had hurt to bang on his front door all night and get no reply. To yell he shouldn’t be hurting alone and receive silence. It hurt to call and call him and he never answered. He sent her straight to voicemail each time. One time Olaf picked up, and then hung up as soon as she spoke. That had been worse than the silence.

“I don’t need betraying friends, that’s why,” He snapped, the rage from the beginning of their conversation finding its way back to him. All this rage, Kit just didn’t know what to do with it. He’d always been so calm, even when he got angry about something it was in a calm, controlled sort of way, not this explosive anger. Kit wasn’t the type of person to know how to deal with it.

She was the sort to spit out her own pain.

“Oh I’m a _friend_? That’s all?” She snapped, her left thumb curling around the ring he’d put there. “So much for not blaming me,” She scoffed, unable to stop herself. How could she blame him? But to call her _some friend?_

“I…” He cursed heavily again and turned to look at her, shoulders dropping. “I don’t mean _you_.”

“You’re sure acting like it,” She said brusquely, holding her opposite elbow in a hand. He rushed up to her and she stood unflinchingly in front of him. Olaf was looking for something in her gaze, but she wasn’t sure what he was thinking behind his bright, no shiny, eyes. This close she couldn’t help but think scathingly that he looked incredibly hungover. Worse than that bender he and Jacues went on last fall. 

So she just stood unyielding, until he reached for her face and gripped her jawline in his hand. Kit started to lean into his touch, she’d been craving it, but she managed to stop any further movement and keep herself mostly steady.  
  
“Maybe it doesn’t need to affect _us_ ,” He whispered, and the desperation in his voice, it broke Kit’s heart. Her heart, yes, but not her resolve. Olaf wasn’t saying it, but that simply meant he wasn’t meaning to stop.

“You going after my baby brother _doesn’t_ affect us?” She pointed out softly. He was being unbelievable even for him. Did he forget _she_ was included in the ‘us’. “You need to stop what you’re doing,” She said firmly, he just needed to _stop_ and they could find some new way back to what they had. Kit finally reached up for his face, but was disappointed when he jerked away. Kit felt her face fall, for just a moment, as his hand slipped off her cheek.

“I wasn’t going to let _your brother_ killing my father affect us,” He said, a little of the coldness returning to his voice. He’d always been anything but cold, calm, sure but not cold. Olaf was always animated, always doing something, he wasn’t this man standing in front of her brooding darkly. Just stuck festering in it.

“He didn’t mean it,” She insisted.

“Not my father, no,” Olaf ground. But his voice got louder as he went, losing more and more of his cold composure. Apparently he hadn’t perfected it, or it wasn’t deep enough. Maybe Kit could hope it was simply his usual bad acting. “Just E? That’s alright, though, to murder her?”

He caught her without an answer once again, but this time… it wasn’t even about all that happened. Just him.

“You don’t have to let it destroy you Olaf,” Kit whispered the truth.

The way he looked at her, so desperate, she almost believed he couldn’t help it. Almost was a little too giving. Kit couldn’t believe that, she never let anything stop her. Neither had he, so why did this have to be different? Why did one horrible mistake have to destroy their entire lives?

“ _You’ve_ always been so brave, Kit,” He muttered and then turned away from her. “But you’re too bull headed, just like Jacques,” He ground his teeth and flexed his fingers out like he was about to play the piano. “You can’t see things right, you don’t _want_ to.”

“There’s no right way to see murder,” She scowled.

“Exactly,” He hissed, pointing at her vibrantly. It made her pause again when she realized he was twisting her words.

Kit shook her head, though, he didn’t get off that easily. “ _You_ meant it. Or did you trip and fall onto the kerosene?”

“No, I stopped to enjoy the smell as I poured it,” He said callously. Kit’s eyes hardened and she suddenly felt that tiny sliver of disgust she’d been fighting return to her. There were few things Kit Snicket disrespected more than arson. Good people died in fires. Her parents did, _his mother!_ Was he even thinking!?

“What, do you want me to hate you? Will that make it better for you Olaf?” That seemed to shock him out of it like she wanted and he edged backwards slightly. He crossed his arms, trying to hide that he was nervous, but he wasn’t that good of an actor. He couldn’t even keep himself from digging at his fingernails on one hand.

“Why can’t you just stop?” She asked, her voice raising as her calm broke. “Just stop and come back!”

“Because there is no way back!” He shouted desperately. “You don't understand! You haven’t _seen_ it!”

“What? The fires?” Kit asked scathingly.

“No, the truth! Haven’t I always told the truth?”

“You used to. Not anymore.”

“Because honesty is a sham, Kit!”

“That’s ridiculous,” She sighed, almost annoyed. He was just being dramatic! She couldn’t say that, though, because then he’d just point wildly and declare he was an actor. Then she’d have to break down at it feeling normal. Right now, nothing felt the same between them.

“Fine!” He yelled, throwing his hands up and turning away from her.

“What can’t I see, then?” She called after him. Olaf couldn’t leave yet, she had to convince him.

He spun back eagerly to her. Neither wanted to leave the other, too afraid it would be their last time. Whatever side they themselves landed on, neither had _chosen_ to give the other up.

“The truth that it's _all_ a lie.” 

“That was almost poetic,” She said scathingly. His face twitched unhappily.

“No, it's honest. Noble, wicked, Volunteer, Villain, it's all just lies! It’s all perpse… perpa… how we see things!”

“You can’t really believe that,” Kit said, shaking her head at the raving man.

“Your brother did this. When he decided he was more noble, more capable, could string soliloquies together _better_! Well please do tell me, if he’s so noble why did he shoot that dart?”

“It was an accident.” Kit remained stubborn.

“No it wasn’t! It wasn’t at all, the target was an accident. _He_ threw it, he just didn’t _hit_ Esme. My father’s still dead! That’s all it was… and so how is that nobility? Stealing from our fellow volunteers because he felt he was better suited. Huh?!”

He could see her indecision and moved up next to her. Only half of her shrunk back.

“Do you see it?” He was begging her. She frowned at the tugging in her chest. Or maybe that was just his hands wrapping around the sides of her shoulders. If she shut out reason, Kit could pretend that as long as his grip held they wouldn't fall apart. Kit could already see the outcome, though. She simply refused to accept it. “Do you see it Kit?”

She _could_ see it. He was just as wrong himself now.

“What does it have to do with your actions? Can you say what you’ve done since is noble?”

“You mean seek justice? Isn’t that what we’re meant to do?”

“It's not justice, its revenge.”

“Oh is it?” He challenged. That wasn’t the point!

“And **_your_ **actions…” Kit pressed on.

“Once you see nobility doesn’t exist… how do you decide whether your actions justify the means? We used to do plenty of terrible things for the right cause. What if _my_ cause is right?”

He pressured her more, his long fingers holding onto her shoulders tighter, as if he was trying to impart his crazy logic onto her. Didn’t he know, she’d never cave to such an emotional argument? The things he was doing were wicked… and he’d taken it too far now.

 _“The end justifies the means. But what if there never is an end?”_ Kit lowered her voice as she quoted the book she’d read most. _“All we have is means. It doesn’t make any difference if his end is good; means are all we’ve got.”_

“Quoting philosophy and _books_ won’t change the facts, Kit!” Olaf practically growled, almost manically. “Will you lie and say you haven’t done questionable things to meet an end as a Volunteer?”

“I’ve never set a fire,” Kit declared with a stiff lip and a clutching deep in her heart. She just wanted to comfort Olaf, throw her arms around him and be whatever he needed. She simply couldn’t. Kit knew him too well. If she gave him a little room to wiggle here, he’d find a way to use what she said to justify all he was doing. She had to hope she could talk him out of this self destruction instead.

“But you’ve done _plenty_.” Olaf suddenly sneered, letting go of her. Kit felt the guilt again but was distracted by his departure. It affected her more than she let on, the feeling of him pulling away. It was a reminder to her how far away her lover really was. Ridiculous. He was standing right here, but he felt as far as the sea. Kit was starting to fear Olaf was too far down to pull back up. He looked so cold to her then. “Let me tell you, a fire isn’t the worst event in the world.”

“A murder is,” She whispered, shaking her head. 

“You still protect your brother.”

“Murder is premeditated,” She pointed out bitterly.

“Throwing a _dart_ is premi… premediationed,” He spat, getting frustrated as he fumbled over the words. 

This just had to end, Kit realized. 

The two of them were more than capable of standing here all night, all _week_ , bickering back and forth and going nowhere. It wasn’t going to work, neither would budge, only more anger would be spoken towards each other. More hurt, a further divide, more to dislike later. Neither could stand the others actions, or his perceived inactions. 

To admit that, though, was to admit the end of things. Kit wasn’t sure she had the strength to do that. She looked up into his angry eyes, poorly disguising his pain. Kit could be strong enough for them both. She loved both of them.

Kit’s throat welled up, and she couldn’t speak as she did it. Nevertheless… she was never going to live under a pretense. What was the point, if he wasn’t going to come back to her? Kit could no more accept what he was doing, than she could do it herself. She’d lost just as much, she didn’t want to hear his excuses. She ripped the ring off her finger, shoving it at his hands with a stinging in her eyes that was unfamiliar.

He gaped at her for a second. Kit looked away when she saw all the wild anger flee his eyes, fear taking root instead.

“I… I-I-I don’t want that… this,” He fumbled for words as he got nervous and the ring bounced around in his hand. Olaf shoved his hand back at her at an awkward angle. She kept her hands at her sides. “It’s yours.” He pleaded.

“Then give it back to me,” She let herself beg him, casting one last wishful look up at his face. If not for himself, then for _her_. Whatever he thought, if he couldn’t stop himself, then maybe Olaf could just stop for her. For _them_ , for the future he promised her when he handed her that ring. “Stop all this and _come_ give it _back to me._ I’d still take it Olaf….” She muttered his name longingly.

She watched the emotions flicker through his face, and his fingers twitched around the ring. No silence had ever hung so heavy over Kit Snicket. All the time Olaf took to stare at her didn’t matter. In the end anger bled back over his handsome features and that coldness settled back in to freeze away her lover. 

Kit looked away before he even said a word. She knew.

“You want the Volunteer’s to be perfect. You’re never going to understand,” He intoned coldly, pulling his hand back. “Go home, K,” Olaf said as he moved past her.

“You’re never going to listen to reason,” She snapped back, biting her lip so she didn’t say another word. So she didn’t call out to him again. Who she loved was disappearing, wasn’t he? She had tried all she could to call him back. Maybe he just wasn’t there.

“It didn’t have to be one or the other,” He called back. Yes. Yes it did. Facts aside, she felt anger at the relief at him calling back to her. Kit didn’t look, she couldn’t let herself. Olaf was wrong whether they wanted each other or not. 

“This one is _your_ choice, Olaf,” She told him firmly, never turning to look at him. All he had to do was come back and embrace her and Kit could help him never let go. She just couldn’t force him to do something he didn't want to. This time, Olaf didn’t answer her. Kit waited until she heard his footsteps echoing fade in the distance before she dropped against the wall, clutching at it for the strength that seemed to have left her.


	4. True strength is not in  holding on, it is in letting go.

She thought about going home but going home seemed impossible, suddenly. Kit was determined to start this off correctly. Kit would not let it affect or control her. She continued on her way to Jacques as if nothing had happened. She climbed her twin’s ladder, giving the door a sharp wrap. He was expecting her and had moved the furniture and the Very Finely Decorated rug away. Jacques softly grabbed her arm and pulled her up through the trap door.

“You’re so late Kit, I was beginning to wo…” Jacques’ voice faded away.

She took one look at her twin, as he shut the trapdoor again and her strong resolve crumbled. Kit wrapped her arms around his chest quickly, holding onto him tightly. She only had strength left to bury her head into his shoulder. Kit breathed in, and then out, relieved as he wrapped his arms around her and stayed quiet as long as she needed it. When the world felt less loud, and like it had stopped spinning out of her grasp, she nudged back and he let his grip on her go.

“I’ve still got warm tea water,” Jacques said to her, and Kit nodded gratefully to her twin. Knowing her well enough not to ask, he prepared the tea and, bless him, let her think about work as he went into the code she had come here to build with him. 

Lemony was still on the run until he could find a safe location for the sugar bowl. Kit wished he would hurry, she wanted him back home. They needed to securely get a hold of him. The message would have to be deeply embedded in their current circumstances. Many of their organization would be looking to intercept it. Kit sipped at her tea before reaching across the page to point out a different style code.

Without a word, Jacques suddenly set his heavy hand on top of her left one. Kit looked up startled, and she saw the silent apology on his face. Oh. Of course. Kit closed her eyes for composure. She’d been so set on ignoring it, that she didn’t even think to realize her ring missing would set off other’s radars.

“I know you take care of yourself,” Jacques started gently. “But, Snicket code and all, did he hurt you?”

Kit shook her head, too emotionally drained to even be annoyed at the question. “No, not physically,” She replied, distressed. 

Even now, when they’d walked away from each other she didn’t think he would hurt her. _‘Maybe it doesn’t need to affect us.’_ No, he wouldn’t hurt her physically at least. That’s why none of their homes burned, wasn’t it? Just the Denouements. He loved Kit, and Olaf and Beatrice had been good friends since their apprenticeships. He wanted revenge but wasn’t willing to hurt them? Was she silly to hope that? 

_‘Maybe it doesn’t need to affect us.’_ He didn't want to lose them all, but he was never one to stand still or take a slight, much less the death of his only family left. Her face pinched up, remembering his pleading. Oh but it did affect them. It really did, and it was affecting him more than he could see.

“This has made you lose so much Kit, I’m sorry,” Jacques said, squeezing her hand. Kit hung her head for a moment to push away how much it was piercing her.

“He’s gone now too,” She muttered, and knew she was with the wrong brother to understand all it meant. Jacques hadn’t found someone, or fallen so madly for another, like she and Lemony had. Poor Lemony, so alone out there, without even his sister and brother. At least he was able to save Beatrice, Kit hadn’t been able to do the same for Olaf. Except Olaf was trying to drown himself, not the other way around.

She squeezed Jacques hand back tightly. “Olaf has made Lemony go on the run, he’s starting fires, obsessed with revenge. The irony is Lemony didn’t even throw the dart! I’m forced to do the right thing, and not endanger Beatrice but…”

But the rest was unspeakable. Beatrice was a good friend, Kit would never throw her to the wolves, or her fiance… ex-fiance. Damn. She disliked thinking that. Thinking any of this made her less than good. Some part of her was angry it was Lemony on the run when it was Beatrice who chose for some reason to throw the dart as Esme had. Really this was all E’s fault. 

Kit didn’t want either of them on the run. It just felt logical that if Olaf knew that it wasn’t _her_ brother, then he wouldn’t have hidden away from her, it wouldn’t be affecting their family. He would have come right away to her. Maybe Olaf, with her holding him up, wouldn’t have gone down such a dark path. Burned so much of himself away, even if only she could see it. The problem was that Beatrice was as much family as Olaf was, so she could sacrifice neither over the other. Kit could only watch it all fall away. 

“I know, I’ve thought the same.” Jacques sighed heavily.

Kit looked up surprised at her twin. Really?

“You have?” That was such a relief. Kit worried that Olaf’s perspective had somehow infected hers. It was insane but… true. Seeing too much into his perspective, when his perspective was so dark, was no good thing. Hearing her twin thought it meant it was her ideology and not Olaf’s. Kit had always been more thoughtful, less filled with reckless abandon and hope than Jacques, so, if _he_ thought it, then she was alright. It was simply logical.

“Our brother would be with us, if he hadn’t decided to protect her,” Jacque shook his head and reached up to pinch between his eyes. “But, we can’t blame or disrespect his decision.”

Kit nodded thoughtfully. Jacques also wasn't a big believer in the fabled happily ever after, being a little more practical with the world. It seemed right he would really think that way. It was just hard, because one word of the truth to Olaf and everything would be different for them. Kit was giving up the person she loved, just to respect both of their decisions. Of course, rationally, it was Olaf making her give him up. If he would just act reasonably about it… or let this anger go, then none of this would happen. He’d be here with the both of them right now, mourning together. Instead he was making them all lose more, suffer worse.

“I tried to reason with Olaf,” She gritted her teeth, and Jacques gripped her hand tightly again. “But he’s past reason already, and he’s taken more than just himself away from me.”

Kit looked at Jacques, and she knew her twin was angry with Olaf, angrier than she probably could be. But out of love he only nodded, letting her pull her hand away to return to her teacup.

“Jacques, I used to look at these marks and see safety, friends, a steady hand to rely on information with,” She said, kicking her left ankle against his under the table. “Now? Now it's all wrong.”

“I know, we’re breaking apart,” Jacques sighed wearily. “It’s not just happening with our family.”

“Arguably our family started it.”

“The schism started a long time ago,” He said sagely before sighing and pouring more tea in his cup. “But yes… this is the proverbial straw.”

“It’s hard to know who to trust,” She frowned, rubbing her left hand at the absent weight there. She’d grown accustomed to it, as much as she’d grown accustomed to leaning on Olaf. Now it was all gone. So was their brother. So much lost to one lone act.

“Snickets always take care of each other,” Jacques told her and Kit smiled sadly.

“I know… I know… I…” Her voice finally broke on her and she ducked her head. “I just thought _he_ was going to be part of that.”

It was so hard to trust, when she’d trusted him completely only to have that trust turned on them. Now she had to guard herself from him and his actions. She couldn’t even blame him entirely to feel better. Kit saw the path he went down, she almost understood it until the point he started doing wicked things that weren’t out of a pained moment of revenge. 

It all… it all seemed so hopeless. Their world had shattered and Kit could see through the cracks, she could see it wasn’t all dark and light… and the fact that Olaf kept saying it, it spooked her. It echoed in her ears and her eyes were beginning to see and she was afraid of falling down that path too.

What everyone was forgetting was that Olaf had done as many noble deeds as any of them. He’d been a noble man, and she’d loved that man. The same could be said for plenty on the wrong side of the schism. It was easy to label them villains, to say they were always hiding some darkness but evil was created, not bred, and she was afraid how far it could fester in them all. It wasn’t going to be easy to sit back and watch, as they all burned themselves as surely as they burned everyone else. Kit thought back to her favorite book. _‘What we call 'evil' is produced by civilization, its constraints and repressions, deforming the spontaneous, free self-expression of the personality.’_

 _“All things truly wicked started from innocence,”_ Jacques quoted, trying to make her feel better. That she hadn’t misjudged him. That just wasn’t what she was worried about entirely.

 _“Yet, evil comes from the abuse of free will,”_ Kit said back, looking up tiredly at her twin. 

She wasn’t going to make excuses for Olaf. She had told him, she had tried, she’d offered him a hand out. It was his choice now… it just didn’t stop her own pain when he turned away from her. Jacques leaned in his chair to grasp her shoulder and tugged her against him, dropping his head on top hers. Kit leaned into her twin, feeling the burning in her chest and trying to let it all go in the comfort of her family’s arms. 

Not all was lost, but it felt hard to appreciate it in the events erupting around them. Events neither of them contributed to, but both were trying to keep up with.


	5. "Not how the story goes."

The coded movie over, the two Snicket twins stepped out into the stale night air after a number of their associates had left alphabetically. Kit had made them stay longer than necessary, but she had nothing to focus on after tonight. It felt even more lonely now that Lemony’s return home had been cut so short. 

The twins had waited months to get him back, and now _he_ swooped in and ruined a carefully crafted get together for the Snicket siblings. If she was prone to fits of despair, Kit might go as far as to wonder if Olaf just was trying to make her miserable on purpose. 

“Breaking Evening News!” Shouted a boy from the side of the theatre selling papers. Jacques, interested in the strange release time, left to purchase one. Kit kept her eyes open for any trouble. As she suspected the moment she was alone her mind drifted to the unpleasantness of this afternoon. As it was she’d have to think about it all tomorrow while they packed up headquarters, _again_. That was the purpose of today’s meeting, that damn reporter had gotten ahold of their location and was going to publish it.

_M spoke very plainly to them. “There's no time to find out how we were found out."_

_“On the contrary, M,” Jacques piped up again. He was very agitated today wasn’t he? “It is almost too late to find out how the reporter found us out. It is time that we said here in an official meeting what we've been saying to one another for quite some time: an enemy has infiltrated our ranks.”_

  
_Kit frowned, interrupting her brother’s moment. “Infiltrated?”_

_" "Infiltrated" is a word which here means "snuck in without our noticing."_

_“I **know** what the word means.” Kit almost hit him, but scoffed instead. His sarcasm was not appreciated. He was being dodgy because he knew Kit would be mad at him for bringing this up to everyone. They didn’t know if it was Olaf doing any of it. Jacques just suspected because of that damned play. At times Olaf was an idiot like that though. It didn’t mean he was going to go to these lengths. He’d never put them all out like this. _

_It was relentless, and she’d admit it seemed unlikely anyone else could be as persistent at it than he? Still, Kit wouldn't doubt him without real proof, she didn’t want to think it was Olaf ruining her daily life. Jacques should just keep quiet._

_Kit decided to continue, being cheeky._

_“When I said "infiltrated?" I meant "Do you really think so? That can't be so." Kit said, glaring at her twin._

_“K is right,” The Duchess spoke up and Kit smiled over to R gratefully._

_“No, J is,” R spoke up from across the room. Both R’s started bickering about which of them was right and Kit was growing weary already._

  
_"Enough!" M said adgitated. "We can discuss this at another time."_

  
_Jacques shook his head and went into a lengthy monologue about all the headquarters they'd had to change since they were young. He had a point, it was unusual and lately it was just ridiculous. She wasn't sure anyone knew what was going on but when they had to relocate to a post office even Kit had been annoyed._

_Kit looked down as Jacques went on. "There is only one explanation for why our secret location has been discovered, over and over again: a member of V.F.D.- perhaps even someone in this very room- has betrayed us.”_

  
_Kit's angered lessoned when he didn’t name Olaf, simply pointed out they had to be careful. Still, his declaration did the trick. It shocked everyone. Even Josephine stopped transcribing from her perch next to M and glanced around._

  
Kit closed her eyes, sore that she’d stuck up for them all and made herself look a fool. Trying beyond reason to not believe they could be being betrayed so far as to have their organization revealed publicly. Look what she got for it. Esme’s screeching laugh was still making Kit’s skin crawl hours later. He certainly spent a lot of time seeking revenge with her, didn’t he?

_“Indeed, ladies and gentleman, perhaps someone in this very room has betrayed you!”_

_Kit’s head whipped round, so hard it hurt, at the extraordinarily familiar voice shouting over their meeting… no… he wouldn’t..._   
  
_“O!” M declared._

_“And E!” Kit pointed out, standing to try and catch Olaf’s attention. Make him think for a moment to turn the hell around and get him and his audacity out of their meeting! So he wouldn’t come back for her, but he’d come back to torment her? To embarrass her, everyone knew they'd been engaged! Her fellow Volunteers were polite enough not to comment but Kit wasn’t naive. She stared unblinking but Olaf didn’t look at her. So Kit spoke up again louder. “We didn't see you there behind the puppet theater.”_

_He didn’t look again. Damn coward. He’d have the audacity to come and do this to her, to them all, but mostly to her and was too cowardly to look at her? M voiced Kit’s thoughts exactly. “E and O, neither of you are welcome at this meeting.”_

_“Actually, I prefer to be called T,” Olaf said with a sniff, and Kit rolled her eyes at her ex-fiance. Really? How very trend setting to go by his surname initial instead of his first. He was really reworking the wheel._

_“We're not going to call you anything at all. Please leave at once.” M requested._

_“We're not going anywhere, you fools,” Esme declared, trying a lower version of Olaf’s usual flourish. Oh was he ‘teaching’ her to act now too? Maybe that was why she was so terrible. Kit barely held back a snarl, her hand clenching._

_“Take a look at this!” Olaf said and flourished to the astonishment of Kit and all her fellow volunteers. He held it up at them like the weapon it was. Kit’s eyes flashed dangerously, but Olaf was doing his best to survey the entire crowd without looking her way. Cad!_

_“Egad!” Lemony gasped from besides her._   
  
_Was Kit’s nerves imagining Olaf’s gaze lingering with that newly acquired rage, on Beatrice’s seat? She must be wrong. Wouldn't it make sense, though, for his sudden turn into much more violent and wicked things to be because Olaf knew it had been his friend and not someone he already disliked that night at the Opera?_

_That kind of thinking was why she couldn't trust her thoughts. She wanted there to be some reason for Olaf to be acting so... wicked. Kit made herself stare at Olaf brandishing a match with glee, to make herself be reasonable. No excuses for him._

_“Put that back in its box immediately!” M called agitated._

_“Not until I issue the following demands,” Olaf’s voice had gotten darker and if Jacques hadn’t set a firm hand on her shoulder, Kit was pretty sure she would have gone up there and strangled him herself!_

  
Olaf and E were growing more daring than before. Her lips tipped into a frown, how dare he barge in on their meeting this afternoon and threaten them. Olaf wouldn’t even look at her. Him and Esme, she was so angry. How much was going to be enough for him? 

  
This was too damn far. First that nasty play, taking over their production to change it to _“One Last Warning to Those Who Try to Stand in My Way.”_ Such a ridiculous and plainly spoken title could only be him. Al Funcoot wasn’t even a _good_ anagram. He switched three or four letters. She knew he was smarter than that, but lately he was just as sporadic as he was violent. 

  
Defenders of Liberty recast, as were the rest of the Volunteers. The playbill hadn’t even been reprinted, just had sloppy charcoal written over the original one. Esme couldn’t act, _either_ , even if she stole everyone’s valuables during the final scene. After Lemony’s coded, scathing review declaring none of them would give up, Olaf took it upon himself to burn down all the records they kept at The Daily Punctilio. All their work, up in flames.

  
Now she was starting to think Jacques was right about everything. Olaf had already burned down one home, but the Punctilio, stolen information, and the new series of fires? It just wasn’t about his father anymore and Kit didn’t want to believe he’d slipped so far into the deep end. Produce a series of awful and ridiculous plays as a message, sure, but hard arson for no real reason? Kit didn’t want to look at it and see Olaf responsible. What she wanted aside, it was clear to her after his threats, that it wasn’t the case anymore. Listening to him ranting, it was apparent to her how far gone he was.

  
Kit was grateful that Jacques finally returned to her side, to distract her from her darkening thoughts. Unfortunately, he didn’t bring good news.

  
“Bad news, Kit,” Jacques spoke, but she didn’t need the warning. The grim tone of his voice was enough. That voice meant news about Lemony, but Kit couldn’t have imagined all she began to read. 

  
“I’m sorry, Kit.” She barely registered Jacques speaking next to her. The entire article was about Lemony Snicket, and his involvement in their organization, named or not. It was all too much to know. Too much except for one of them. Lemony… he was being framed for the arson, and their murders… she gazed up bleakly at Jacques. It was too on the nose. It was Olaf.

  
“The Punctilio… he was at the opening of Macbeth that night for a review. It could clear him.”

“Kit it’s…”

  
“Olaf…” She muttered, gazing down at the paper and understanding. No… of course. It wasn’t for no real reason. It was worse. Kit’s face drained of color. “He burned it to get rid of L’s alibi.”

  
“I’m going to get a message out to Lemony to get out of here,” He said grimly, setting a hand on her shoulder. “Set up passage for him before I’m sent off. It’s all we can do.”

  
Kit nodded, skimming a second time through the article. He was going to have to go on the lam, for real this time. Kit was going to lose her brother if he didn’t run, and… and for what!

  
“Kit, do you want-”

  
She held up a hand to quiet her twin and shook her head. He fell silent and she couldn’t help it. There was _nothing_ to say. She knew he was going to offer her to come with him on his mission to the sea, but she was done watching this all fall apart. Kit was done pretending he was still a good man. For the first time, she _wanted_ to hate him.

“Take care of Lemony,” Kit said coolly, looking up to meet her twin’s eyes. They silently exchanged their pain for their little brother, but Kit said goodbye before her own personal grief could kick in. She moved away, walking down the sidewalk as Jacques got in his taxi and drove off with a honk to her.

  
When he was out of sight, she doubled around to head down the secret entrance to the tunnel system under the theatre.

Kit threw herself down the staircase and moved swiftly through it towards a familiar pathway. She went for miles and miles under the city until she reached where his sign was, except… Olaf’s family’s sign wasn't hanging there. It was on the floor in a pile of ash.

Kit’s eyebrows furrowed and she frowned as she rounded the corner, only to find the tunnel leading up the ladder to his trap door destroyed. It had been caved in, and where fury had been moments ago, unwanted worry seized her instead.

She ran to the closest exit and scrambled up away from the tunnel system and to Olaf’s mansion. It still stood. It wasn’t part of the series of fires. Kit stood in the darkening skies, looking up at the black home. _‘Well of course not,’_ Kit chided herself. She knew perfectly who did it all. 

Kit hopped over the gate and marched up the sidewalk to the front door. With all her knocks going to waste, the lights all out, and the spare key removed from under the step’s floorboard. Fine, but she didn’t really care if he wanted her in or not. Kit picked the lock and let herself in. 

“Olaf!” She shouted for him angrily, but heard no movement. 

Kit moved through each room, searching for him in a fury. All the way through his home was empty, a suit jacket, one she recognized from the Opera, was slung over the piano. Walking past the stairs Kit found the kitchen a mess, the stone hearth cold. The cellar was empty. When she got to where his trapdoor should be, she realized he’d collapsed it himself. Of course he did. He’d made his message clear today, hadn’t he? It didn’t look recent, only her shock was new. She passed in and threw the ballroom doors open, shutting them swiftly when she didn’t spot him. She’d spent too many happy times there with him to count and she wasn’t interested in memory lane. 

Family pictures were hanging backwards through the hall as Kit moved through the upstairs. The attic was empty and she skipped the next floor in favor of the tower. He loved locking himself up there. Kit expected, as she rose through the trapdoor, to see Olaf sitting moodily in front of the candles littering the area. She expected wrong, again. He wasn’t there and there was a layer of dust settled over things that made Kit wonder if she shouldn’t have done this sooner. 

It didn’t look like he was living here after all. It was probably too obvious anyways, she’d just been so angry she came straight here. That was her still, always expecting him to be something more. She stepped through what felt like a sea of empty bottles.

They had little bits of paper stuck to them and Kit leaned down curious if it was a code of some sort. Instead, she was shocked to see he’d taped paper with scrawled on names. Dad, Mom and… more than one bottle of wine was dedicated to Kit Snicket.

“Ridiculous man,” She grumbled, unhappy with the part of her that still found his odd ideas charming. Kit was done with that, she wasn’t here for him, she was here to put a stop to his violent actions. 

She dropped down to a knee to check under the racks, nothing was taped there. His windowsill, nothing. The underside of furniture and in his shoes (he always said he thought it was strange no one ever thought to look at people’s ankles). Kit ran her hand under the desk and rifled through draws. All she found were discarded play ideas and many pieces of torn paper with Lemony’s name on it. 

Finally she sat on the chair, looking over books. One picture was left turned the right way in the house, it seemed, a portrait of his two parents hung in a gold frame over his desk. Kit frowned sadly at them. Olaf couldn’t take the last one down? They’d both be so sad to see what had happened to their beloved son over their deaths. Kit shook herself. She didn’t have time for a moment, she had work to do.

Her hands hovered over his commonplace notebook, she wasn’t surprised he’d left it behind. Olaf had clearly left behind every bit of his old self along with their organization. His determined dastardly schemes were tearing her organization apart, more and more Volunteers turning to villainy and the fires… there were too many to even put out. All of them reeked with his unapologetic attitude. It just wasn’t charming now that it was for this. 

Flipping through the book she found the last entry was from a mission he’d regaled her with the over dramatized details of a few weeks before the Opera. The other papers were drafts of that damned play, it was all nastiness. She poured over the contents of the scattered papers but found no codes and it seemed to have been a draft before all the threats were actually put in or thought of perhaps. The play she read seemed relatively harmless, simply angry spouting in the only outlet Olaf had to put things in. Useless, was what it was, none of this pointed out at a next scheme or his location.  
As she neared the last of the loose paper, she found two notebooks but they were all old. 

She got up from the desk and cast a look around the tower before going down to look around the bedroom levels. It was all untouched, and finally, Kit stopped at a room in the back wing. Kit threw open Olaf’s bedroom door and looked around. She’d found nothing at his desk or the dresser, except some cleaned out clothing drawers and _**more** _empty bottles. How much could Olaf have possibly drunk? 

Kit felt nauseous, being here now that it wasn’t about a brave deed to stop his tirade against the V.F.D. Kit didn’t want to be in this room, filled with so many moments between the two of them. Besides the ballroom, dancing and hearing his next terrible rehearsal, they’d spent most of their time at his home, in here. Kit looked over it with a now familiar empty feeling. Time to go.

She decided to do one last sweep of his room before leaving. He’d packed in here, so maybe he’d left a clue behind accidentally. The corner of paper peeking out from the nightstand drawer next to his bed made her think she had found something useful. Maybe that was something she could use! Kit tugged it out of the draw, finding it was warped from liquid pouring on it. Dammit. Upon opening it She was relieved to see that the writing wasn’t damaged. It had his messy scrawl in short bursts and she held it up closer to be able to read in the dim lighting.

_Journals are ridiculous. I hate journals._

She stopped reading, he wrote a journal? Since _when_? She’d never seen him write anything but a screenplay and even then it was more a jotting of ideas than correctly formatted. He’d always been very sensitive about things, took insult to things, but she knew he’d never _journaled_ before. Kit herself had written in a diary when she was younger, but it didn't seem like Olaf.

Kit glanced back down.

_I hate my life though and I feel like the thoughts are burning me. I’ve got to get them out somehow and talking to myself makes me feel crazy. Besides, I ran out of brandy and it didnt get me far enough to pass out for the night. What happened to good brandy anyways! Cant even relay on brandy. So why not write to my lonely self?_

_No I'm not lonely. It cant be lonely if you want to be alone. I certainly do! Why would I keep the company of liars and thieves? Esmes right, they just didnt trust us. Because I’ve always done things differently, been honester and not hiding my intentions in pretty words. What good has it been to do the right thing when my close friends are plotting against the rest of us? They didnt trust her to have that damn sugar bowl, and no one made Lemony face what he’s done. They let him escape! Jacques drove him off. That coward ran, oh he just ran._

Kit threw the book down on the bed angrily and looked around the room as if Olaf was standing there in front of her. She closed her eyes to regain her composure. He might as well be. 

She didn’t have to do this to herself. She didn’t need to read it. Kit didn’t _want_ to know what he was thinking anymore. She didn’t want to be compassionate for someone who was murdering people, coming after her brother, Kit didn’t _want_ to love him anymore.

Kit reached out for the journal. She wasn’t sure if she picked it up because she still loved him despite her wishes, or because it might have information she could use to stop him.

  
_None of them are chasing Lemony! Not one person. I knew Kit couldnt she loves her brothers but no one but E is pissed besides me! Shes just angry over some stupid sugar bowl anyways. My father is dead! I dont want pity and stares I want something done! No one is going to either, R that damn bitch R made it clear, she’s just looking the other way! Unfortunate, thats what it is is it? Ill show them unfortunate! Its going to be unfortunate what happens when I finally destroy L for what he did! Hes going to suffer like I am. I dont care if I have to do it alone I… I will. Somehow. What happened to being Volunteers! Some help my supposed organization is to me in my worst moment. Hows that for dramatic irony? It was fine for Lemony to try and kill Esme over a sugar bowl but not for me to seek justice over him murdering my father? Well I will. In the most… most… worst way I can think of!_

_So why havent I?_

_… easy. Kit. Why couldnt she be a only child? If I do something how is Kit going to look at me? I hate that I care enough about that to wait around like this. There has to be a way. I just havent thought of it yet. I dont have to ask to know theres no way she blames her brother too. I havent seen her in days but I dont want to hear the same from her as the others. I cant hear it from her too. Shes supposed to be on my side but its not like I can ask her to be. Maybe she would be, though. Shes always been so close to them both. Shes not as noble as Jacques she isnt going to put my justice over her brothers head. I dont want to lose her to but I cant let my father’s murderr escape._

_What do I do?_

Kit sighed heavily as she set the paper down, glancing around at the bottles again. Her name stuck on them. Damn him, she didn’t want to read any of this! She didn’t want to be pulled back into this when she needed a steely disregard as good as the one he had on in that meeting room.

_They gave me his damn ring yesterday when I was at the morgue. His personal effects, joy ojoy! I hate the thing. I dont want to wear it it just reminds me constantly of everything. Of his face in that last moment, I never have seen him afraid before. It shouldnt surprise me I am nothing like him But hed be pissed if I didnt carry it and his stupid ideas. So I have to and maybe its okay to have something to be near him._

_No! Its not okay it still only reminds me how far I am from anyone else Id built my life around. A ring for my father, a tattoo for my traitors, what is left that is mine?_

This was before she saw him again, down in the tunnels. Right after the Opera, that’s when he’d written this. She knew because she’d barely missed him at the morgue. By just an hour. So it was useless, then, for finding out what he was up to now. Kit should stop, but she still kept going.

There was more and more, little patches of writing that she couldn’t stop reading. Of his anguish, of his terrible anger for Lemony growing. Page after page of it, a timeline of his building rage. So foreign from her lover, and yet it was scrawled here in his practically illiterate chicken scratch. Her heart was throbbing too hard to be unhappy with his grammar. He was in so much pain, and nobody should be in pain by themselves. Yet the person she’d loved more than anyone, had been. Kit couldn’t help but feel guilty, but she’d tried so hard to find him. This was proof, he’d been here, she must have simply missed him the times she’d come. Or he was very good at ignoring her. Even then, it was his choice.

With a steadying breath, Kit turned the page but the latest entry took her breath right back from her chest.

  
_Oh Kit… how much Im aching to be with you right now. Kit…_

**_Kit_ **

**_Kit_ **

**_Kit_ **

  
_My love… that's all I can do to be close, write your name over and again. Seems sort of stakerish now that I lookat it though. Bah. What can I do? I can’t see you. Your so nobel, not as much as Jacques, but you beautifully stubborn woman what will you say? I know oh I know I see you torn watching Lemony, **the bastard!** run, and sitting there with me and… and Dad. How can I crawl to you for anything, say one truthful word when all I wish for is a way to destroy your own brother? _

  
_I cant, I dont hate you, it wouldnt be very loving to do that to you. Or maybe I just don’t want to see you leave me. Your so stubborn I cant believe youll see things like I do youll see it how they do. Like your dumb twin does. Its all their faults. Lemony, and even Jacques, that traitorous welp drove him off! Out of my reach away from his crime. I thought we were all seeking justice and peace? Not running it away. Its all I can think about. How can I come to you? It’s so unjust… the only person left who hasnt betrayed me is you. Neither of us had anything to do with this. We should be together right now. I should be able to kiss you be talking to you instead of this stupid journal! So why does it have to be this? Youd know Kit you always have the right answers. You seem so far away… I just want you to lay down with me, so maybe I could slee_

_Dammit stop calling me! I cant even pretend to write to you without you ringing that damn phone, you know, Im just going to unplug the damn thing. Oh temtemption! What do you accept of me Kit? You always accept to much of me better than I am. I cant deal with this like you can. What do you want to say? How can we be married now? All the hope for the future is gone how can I stand and take you as my wife when your family has destroyed mine? When I need to… to do something, something to bring Lemony to justice for what hes done. Is there even justice in this unfair world?_

  
_I need to call it off, thats the brave thing to do, but thats you not me. Just the slimy thought of it feels like Ill be yanking my own hands off. As much I cant come to you, how can I decide to be away forever? I’ve admired you from the moment you caught me at that card game and I’ve loved you since you jumped off a building with a faulty rope and dragged yourself up the twelfth story without a whiff of fear. I’ve loved you every moment since then. Ever since you agreed to marry me, I never planned for when I couldnt be with you. What do I do now, dear Kit?_

  
There was an ink stain and some of the ink had been blotted away by drops of wine. The rest of it was in a different color and much sloppier writing, a short break on the page. She imagined he must have been rather drunk by this point.

  
_All of its killing me. why did Lemony need to do this? Why would he steal from our own people the pompes ass! How could he throw that dart at one of us and my poor father got in the way. Our, us, what am I saying, I want nothing to do with anyone. Excet you. I nearly got to your apartment tonight again Kit, oh but I always end up going by that damned Opera and it all stops me._

  
_I wish you were here next to me instead but you know merlot is warm too. Ooh hoo, its very good Kit. I got a good vintage bottle from the cellar too. I played our song on the piano, I realy am so incredibly talented on it. I could almost hear you singing it. You realy cant sing but id take that to the silence in here now. I keep seeing Dad in the halls too. Hes stopped telling me Im not doing everything right, maybe he wants me to do this too. Im just glad mom is dead. Shed be worse than me. No I dont wish that then I wouldnt be a orphan. I hate orphans now too. I hate everything. Thats why Im a tortured loner now. I hate that I have to do something to burn Lemony for what he did and I hate that your never going to stay with me throw it and I hate not being with you and I wish I hated you like I hate everyone else. Then I wouldn’t miss you like this. It would be easier but I dont think I can ever do that we were perfect you know that. The light of the bright world is dying Kit its gone but the light of my whole life hasn’t even in this... never! my love cant be done for you._

  
The last word of that painful run-on sentence was suddenly blurred and in just a moment she couldn’t see any of the page.   
Kit let out a surprised gasp as she realized she was crying. Fat tears finally started to fall down her nose and slide down her lips and chin. She couldn’t process it because Kit did not cry. She hadn’t cried since the first night she was taken away from her home and her ankle was stamped painfully. Ever since then, not once. Not losing her parents, not losing Lemony, not even all these nights losing Olaf slowly. 

  
Kit just didn’t cry but something that wasn’t dust was making her shake uncontrollably. She wiped her eyes and turned the page, but that was the last entry. She flipped every single page wildly looking to hear more from _her_ Olaf again. But that was the last of it.

  
Feeling weak she let the notebook fall to the bed and Kit collapsed onto it too, working through the surprisingly hard to stop tears. Sniffing in, she threw her eyes open but no one was standing there in the dark. 

No… she realizes quickly it was his pillow. It still smelled just like him, if not missing a shower. Kit looked around, demanding inwardly to get up and get out of here. Before she let herself forget all about the series of arsons, framing her brother and the... and the deaths. The suspicious use of ironic poison darts.

  
It was too late, though. Kit curled up around his pillow, burying her face in it to try and pretend he was there. That they could fix it all. Pretend that neither of them were so alone.

  
“The night has a thousand eyes,   
And the day but one;”

  
Kit recited into his pillow.

  
“Yet the light of the bright world dies,   
With the dying sun.”

  
Kit started to breathe steadier as she recited their poem and inhaled his scent. Even after all these months it didn’t seem strange to her. 

  
“The mind has a thousand eyes,” She whispered.

Just like hers. 

“And the heart but one,”

He was the only one she loved like this.

“Yet the light of a whole life dies,  
When love is done,”

  
They were never supposed to be done.

  
He was wrong. He was gone and with Olaf, their love had to be done too. The man writing those letters wasn’t the man she met in the tunnels. He wasn’t the man who had threatened to burn them all today at the meeting. Something changed. He wasn’t the violent, wicked person lighting all these fires and tearing the schism that had been an undercurrent in their organization into a jagged wound in the earth.

A whole life dies. The life they might have had, who she could have been with him… who he was with her, and now it too was done.


	6. “No one can long hide behind a mask, the pretense soon lapses into the true character.”

Kit looked up towards the balcony where the party was in full swing. They hadn’t had this sort of get together in so long. The schism made everything so difficult, but tonight was just a night for rejoicing and time spent with friends. Maybe later in the night, she could join in. It wasn’t likely, but that's what they needed to do to keep Lemony safe. 

He shouldn’t have come, but R invited him and L risked it. To see Beatrice, Kit had no doubt. The last two year or so hadn’t been kind to any of the Snicket siblings. All they could do was stay safe, and Kit could continue to work on a way to clear Lemony’s name so they could all be together again.

Kit pulled her scarf tighter around her neck when a cold wind chilled her. Her jacket was thick but at this altitude everything felt colder. How different this night might have been once. She shook the thought. Seeing nothing on the grounds below Kit turned to survey the balcony she was on again. A figure was walking towards her in the dark. 

Kit stood straighter, alert. The figure was alone and walking too slowly, despite the appropriate attire for tonight. The man, she could see, had a tall mask that came up over his forehead, but it didn’t hide much to Kit. As soon as he had stepped into the dim light from above, Kit recognized Olaf’s body. She scowled, reaching into her coat pocket when he held up his hands cheekily and shook them.

Why come near, likely the one Volunteer who could recognize him? Olaf wasn’t here for a party, there had to be a horrible plan in motion. The three siblings had been right to be overly worried tonight.

“You’re not on the party list, Olaf.”

“Well I’m wearing a mask.”

“Should that put me to ease?” She asked coldly.

“It’s a _masquerade ball_ , they're practically asking for it.” Olaf shrugged, and stood there for a moment looking at her from behind his mask. Kit stared back intently, narrowing her eyes. 

“How’s Esme?” She challenged, and cursed herself for mentioning it. She didn’t care, so why did Kit say it? Well, to figure out if she was part of this too. Of course. Ever since E married Jacques’ friend, in one day no less, and got her hands on 667 Dark Avenue, she seemed to have disappeared from Olaf’s jaunts. Part of Kit wondered if it was only publicly, but Kit was simply gathering information. That was all. Esme _was_ married, perhaps it had only ever been evil schemes they were doing together. Two scorned Volunteers and that was all. Kit didn’t care, she reminded herself. 

“How’s Lemony?” He countered, and his question sounded more like a threat than hers. Kit snarled a little and cursed that triumphant smirk she could practically _hear_ in his voice.

“Looks like you care more than I do.” He pointed out calmly, but she didn’t see it in his eyes as he got closer Olaf didn’t look as pleased with himself as he should. He didn’t look very triumphant to her, either. He looked sad. Kit looked away. His feelings didn’t matter anymore, either. 

“All that shows is further proof of how wrong you are,” Kit said firmly, glad to get the higher ground under her feet again. Olaf felt like a current, ready to pull her out from underneath herself, and whisk her away to an unreasonable, unnoble sea. Kit hadn’t seen him in person since he interrupted that meeting, all those years ago. One play he’d done unrelated to any of them, she’d gone to survey his movements only of course, but that was from afar and he was acting. Or his version of it. Somehow he’d gotten worse.

“No. All it means is _you_ still haven’t figured it out, love,” Olaf said casually, and she hated that all her pathetic heart could take from that sentence was the way he said ‘love’ again. Like it still meant something. The term of endearment woke up so many memories and the tide tugged hard at her ankles despite her resistance. 

_‘The mind has a thousand eyes,_   
_and the heart but one.’_

The poem never mentioned how much stronger that single eye was than the others. Kit had expected herself to be so much stronger after so long. She thought this inevitable run in would be much easier after watching with a low anger and disgust at the things he’d done.

“It’s been a long time,” Olaf commented at her continued silence. His mask hid any of his facial features from her. “I was hoping to find you dancing, Kit.”

“I had other priorities,” She said curtly. Thanks to him. It was his doing, that she wasn't able to dance freely upstairs with the people she cared about anymore. She was too busy making sure they were safe. Besides, the days of _them_ dancing together were long over. He couldn’t sweep in and change that now. 

“Watching out for your baby brother?” Olaf said, tilting his head. She hoped he knew how ridiculous that mask was. “I saw Jacques, valiantly guarding him inside! One twin in, one twin out, huh? He couldn't help but sneak into the ball, I see. Wanted to see a certain _someone_?”

Kit’s eyes got big and just a bit fearful. Did he have people set up near Jacques and Lemony now? She swore, if he took anything else from her… Kit might just start taking back.

“Oh don’t worry, love, “ Olaf drawled. “I’m not interested in L being here.”

“Tired of framing him for murders?” She asked scathingly.

“Was he more offended by the arson? Hmhm,” Olaf chuckled. Kit sneered at him. None of this was a _joke_.

“Lucky Smells was senseless.”

“Maybe to you Kit, but what do you know? That’s the question.”

“What is that meant to imply?” She asked cautiously. “Why are you here?”

“Why haven't you called for help?” He returned with a question, leaning down closer to her. Kit steeled her nerves. She _didn’t_ want him anywhere near her. In fact, he was aggravating her aside from his wickedness. This jovial, nonchalant attitude was unbecoming and incredibly vexing. Did he really think any of what he had done made him dangerous or intimidating? Maybe he could play that with other people, but not her. In fact it was offensive for him to even _say_ it to her. Did she _look_ helpless? She was helpless as much as he was intimidating.

“I can handle myself,” She looked at him so filled with anger. As if she needed to. “And I can certainly handle _you_. You’re not as terrifying as you think.”

That seemed to shake him of his jesting attitude.

That anger returned to his gaze. “I’ve outsmarted all the Volunteers time and again, without needing a large vocabulary, ridiculous metaphors or a plucky attitude!”

“You forget _I am_ a Volunteer, plucky, considerate, and incredibly well read, Olaf. I enjoy our code and I despise fires and vagrant displays of violence. We may be defeated at times but we will never disappear.” She knew he always connected with that last line the most. He _used_ to be this way too, and he forgot she still was. Kit wasn’t done.

“In fact, I’m one Volunteer ‘plucky’ enough to make _you_ keep wanting to come in a library,” Kit reminded her former love with a low sort of intensity. Something of what she said got through, likely her double entendre. It at least shook Olaf because he stared at her a little dumbfounded for a moment.

Good, because Kit was tired of this _boring_ , justified attitude he wore like a disguise! She was tired of him separating the Volunteers and herself, she just knew he was using it as some out. Olaf was hurting the Volunteers, his violence and obsession was tearing everything and everyone away from her. She wasn’t going to hear a minute more of his piffling excuses. Just because he didn't look at her, didn’t mean she wasn’t one of the many affected in that meeting. Kit wasn’t about to let him forget that fact. 

“Well... you all underestimate me as usual!” Olaf grasped onto. “I’m smarter than you all give me credit for or someone would have stopped me by now.”

He tried to get his footing back, but, well she’d always had more sense, hadn’t she?

“I always _overestimated_ you,” Kit said scathingly. “That was my problem.”

Oh, and wasn’t that a painful truth. Kit had seen so much more in Olaf than there was in the end. Oh she’d denied the clear signs her twin saw of a traitor in their midsts, until Olaf jumped in and threatened them all. She ignored the first fire, in hopes it was a mistake, a reaction, but they just kept coming. Eventually there was no denying or ignoring when she was faced with -nearly daily- the consequences of his scheming and vile actions. It was getting hard to remember the reasons she ever loved him.

Seeing that he hadn’t recovered from her barb, Kit took the advantage to press him for information. 

“Tell me why you’re here Olaf,” Kit demanded, leaning an inch closer to him this time so he could see she meant it. She wasn’t going to take no for an answer, and she wasn’t here for pleasantries. She couldn’t enjoy R’s masked ball with her friends because she needed to watch out for her brother, seeing as _Olaf_ framed him for murder. _Again_.

“I don’t think you do know,” Olaf said softly, in a normal voice for the first time. Kit swallowed at the sad look that suddenly appeared in his eyes. Maybe he just felt safe behind his mask but it had always been his eyes for her. So easy to read, like coded words on a page. “ _They_ didn’t even know, and they even knew you got the darts from Denouement. They knew it all… and yet Lemony hid it even from them.”

 _They?_ Who were they exactly? It wasn’t Olaf who had figured out her involvement on that fateful night, but someone else? Was it not Olaf organizing all of these schemes she saw piling up, leaving nothing but ash and dismay in her once quiet world? Was there a guiding hand pulling Olaf down?

Kit hated quite venomously how quickly she jumped for a reason not to hate him. Not to blame him, when his actions were the truth that counted. Kit wasn’t so unreadable to him either, because Olaf seemed to have picked up on her internal hesitation.

Olaf's gloved hand reached up, just barely brushing his fingers along the bottom edge of her jaw. Slowly, longingly stroking his fingers downward. Kit’s breath held, because she could see all the yearning she felt when he was first gone, pooling behind his gaze. So clear to her, so close. Yet, while it softened Kit’s demeanor she didn’t let it crack it. She had to remind herself of the correct facts. Kit had to remind herself that this was a ghost of the version of the man she’d loved...

A ghost that didn’t _want_ to turn back. Like a cascade no one could stop, he’d sunk deeper and deeper into the pits of depravity and Kit didn’t think he could dig himself back out. Olaf burned the rope she’d thrown down to him and now Kit had no more to feed down. They hadn’t had a choice to begin with, and they didn’t stop choosing each other but… Olaf had recently, hadn’t he? He’d disregarded them and chose to step away into this villainous world instead. A world he knew Kit would never respect or tolerate much less have a part in. It shouldn’t matter if someone else led him there or he went himself. Suddenly, it felt like all the difference in the world though.

“The worst thing is…” He said softly, reaching up to remove his ridiculous mask. Kit didn’t want him to, because she didn’t want to fully face him. “It didn't have to affect us at all.”

“What you do,” Kit said slowly, despairingly. “Was always going to affect us.”

“You told me you’d still say yes.” Olaf’s voice clammed up suddenly and he looked down at her exposed.

“You’re not the same man as when I said that,” Kit said softly. In fact, he’d become the worst possible version of himself, Kit was sure of that. For some illogical reason that didn’t change that all Kit ached for in this moment was to say yes. Damn her! Damn her resolve being so easily chipped. She couldn’t forget that it was the trust and unguarded embracing of each other that the Volunteers, and Kit, had given to Olaf and the others defectors, that was used to try to utterly destroy them. How could Kit give that a chance again? How could she reasonably spare him one _word_ when he would likely use it to tear her and her cause to pieces? It was clear from the moment she saw him, hidden behind a mask, that he came here with a nefarious purpose. 

“It wasn’t so very long ago,” Olaf finally said, letting his hand fall away from her.

“That doesn’t change the wickedness you’ve done since.”

“No…” He agreed, serious finally. “Except that it's different now. There’s nothing between _us_.”

“You’re right,” Kit uttered, not understanding how his two completely separate sentences were linking. He was right, though, slowly but surely he was working his way to burning everything that had ever been between them.

“Whatever happens, it's not between us.” Olaf explained, and Kit looked up at him confused. 

Kit’s concentrated frown returned. He just didn't understand? Or didn’t want to see, he was a smart man. He knew what he did must drive him away from her, so what was Olaf talking about? He could see the stubborn look on her face. He recognized it but, very much like himself for once, Olaf never backed down. 

“I’m going to wake you up with a kiss one last time, Kit Snicket,” He declared with his rebounding energy. Kit needed to tell him that if he kept going down the road he was going, hell what he’d already done to her brother, probably did to that man at Lucky Smells, then Kit wouldn’t ever give him the chance. It was _already_ over. He knew that when he left those tunnels. It had been years, what changed?

Part of her wondered if Olaf knew that they couldn’t go back, but just refused to let go. He said one _last_ time… not one _more_ time. Whatever he thought these days was beyond her. Kit started to shake her head, but he held it still so she couldn’t protest. With all her doubts, Kit didn’t have the heart to force him away when his eyes got so warm and lively again. Hopeful. Maybe she wasn’t as strong as she wanted to be. Maybe he wasn’t either. Still he whispered to her. “You’ll see, love.”

Olaf stepped away from her and she could physically _feel_ his presence leaving her. He smiled at her once before he replaced his mask and Kit watched him turn around. Kit, though, was also never one to back down.

“I can’t wake up to anyone who does nothing but destroy,” Kit called after him. She hated to crush that hopeful, zealous look she’d come to adore, but she wouldn’t stand for herself to be spoken for either. Unlike their last departure, Olaf turned around.

“You’ll see the truth eventually, Kit, you’re too smart not to,” Olaf was too far away, though, and his face was hidden by his mask again. She had no hope of understanding whatever vague thing he meant. 

“And what’s this truth you’re hiding behind?” Kit demanded, taking two steps forward.

“The world was never quiet.”

An angry, frustrated scowl flashed across her face for a brief moment as he turned away. No. It was _Olaf_ making it so noisy. There may have been discontent brewing in their organization, but it was Olaf setting off the fireworks and burning everything Kit loved to the ground. Even himself. It was him, wasn’t it? It was his actions, whomever ‘they’ were.  
She turned to grip the railing, trying to channel her frustration into the cold marble. What did he even mean, not between them? He’d been trying to figure out what she knew but got caught up in a moment between them instead. Olaf slipped, and started talking about their old relationship. What did he think changed it all so much? 

  
No sudden epiphany would change all he’d done to her family since then. Of course, Olaf didn’t think about his own faults in things. Kit still didn't understand why he was suddenly asking about their engagement? Something tugged at her mind, and Kit remembered Olaf’s journal.

_How can we be married now? All the hope for the future is gone how can I stand and take you as my wife when your family has destroyed mine?_

That was why he’d never turned back to her then. For that to change for him it meant… Oh. _Damn._ He was always honest with her, even when he didn’t want to be clearly.

_Olaf knew._

Beatrice! Kit started running, but Olaf was long gone by the time she chased after him. That was the comment about not being here for Lemony. How could he possibly know? She’d never be able to find B in the crowd of masks. Kit had to get word to her brother quickly.

Carefully, in case Olaf had someone masked and watching in the party. If anyone knew where to find Beatrice, it was Lemony. He always watched when she was near. 

Kit just hoped feverishly she was quick enough to save her. With all Olaf had done recently, the lives he’d taken, it had always struck Kit odd that he only framed and tormented Lemony instead of murdering him. That was his wicked version of justice, an eye for an eye. His father died, so his killer needed to for him to feel vindicated. Kit had always known deep down he wouldn’t kill her brother because of her. Whatever ‘punishment’ Olaf saw fit, he didn’t seem capable of going so far as to take Kit’s family from her.

If Olaf knew now, knew that it was Beatrice's hand that had thrown that dart… well there were no consequences he cared about to stop him from getting his revenge. Beatrice was in danger tonight. Kit decided that didn’t matter, she was going to stop him anyways.


End file.
